


The Start of Our Story

by topnotchcockles



Series: From One Story To Another [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Character Development, Dean looking after Sammy, I'm so attached, Kelly Kline (mentioned), M/M, Mr Ketch is a softie, Protect his smol bean butt, Protective Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, There's more to this series, acquaintances, feels trip, how angsty will this fic get?, i have no idea tbh, may add more tags, may change up rating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-25 08:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9811925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topnotchcockles/pseuds/topnotchcockles
Summary: One look at him and you’d consider him to be a humble gentleman. A man with a broad smile, easy and welcome in his stance when you meet him. Newcomers tend to misinterpret and think that he is an easy man to faze, but many others know better.They knew.They knew of the way he gutted his victims. They know of the way, a cold face spreads over his features when he’s on a mission. They know that he’s unblinking on the job – ruthless in his killings and cleaning up his tracks. He’s a man of colours, they say.And he never fails to deliver.





	1. Sam Winchester

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WriterByMidnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterByMidnight/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Mr Ketch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9801308) by [topnotchcockles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/topnotchcockles/pseuds/topnotchcockles). 



> A continuation to part one of the series "From One Story to Another". :)  
> It's strongly recommended to read the previous part first. It is a prelude, after all.
> 
> I'm not sure how long I'll go with this, but I'm really excited for how it'll go. The build may be really, really slow but I hope you will have the patience to bear with me. I may also set up a schedule to post an update once a week, since I am having exams next week and eh, I doubt I'll have much time to write.
> 
> Dedicating this to my fav bean Shay uvu .. That aside, without further ado - enjoy!

Sam sits quietly at the table where the big map is laid across, stuck in thought as his fingers fiddled with themselves. He can’t help himself from worrying his lips between his teeth as thoughts of a certain British man fills his mind. Crinkled eyes and a tantalizing smile invades his brain and forcing it to fill with endorphins. He jolts himself out of his stupor when he hears the clinking of ceramic ware coming from around the corner.

 

He hides himself in the cover of a Lore book, burying himself in it before whoever it is turns around the corner. He hears a soft sigh, immediately acknowledging that it was in fact – Castiel. And he knows that trying to hide anything from him would be futile. But of course, being the ever-oblivious angel he was – he deemed to be unaware of Sam’s awkward mannerisms. Sam’s surprised for a minute, before reminding himself that _damn it, Sam. He has better things to do than worry about you – like finding Lucifer’s kid._

 

“No luck on Kelly?” he asks, never lifting his eyes from the book in front of him. Castiel sits beside him at the table, setting down his cup and plate of PB&J on it. Sam’s eyes raise at the sound of the ceramic hitting glass, eyeing the food in surprise. He watches as the angel stares at it in thought for a minute, before looking up at Sam blankly. “Do you want it?” he inquires, moving to push the plate towards the young Winchester.

 

Sam blinks, withdrawing from his book in surprise as the delectable sandwich came into view – unable to prevent the gathering of saliva in his mouth as he watches the jam drip from one of its sides. He shyly peers up at the angel, as if he was a child asking permission to pet a puppy. “May I?” Castiel vaguely gestures towards it, before leaning back and tucking his hands back into his lap.

 

At the sign, Sam allows himself to leap at the opportunity. He gently picks up the sandwich with easy hands – allowing himself a moment to take it in before bring it to his lips. The instant the jam and peanut butter mix touches his tongue, flavours explode in his mouth and he can’t help the small groan of appreciation as he savours it. He’s unaware of the way Castiel rolls his eyes, the angel resting his arms against the table as he starts to speak – Sam barely aware of the distant sound of his voice through the taste of delicacy in his mouth.

 

“I’ve searched everywhere for her, even contacted angel radio – but no one’s seen her. We can’t pinpoint her exact location, let alone the slightest hint of where she is,” Castiel starts, brows furrowing as he tries to sort his thoughts and try to make certain of what he’s saying. “It’s like..” he says, worry worming its way into his voice as it drifts. Sam glances at him from the corner of his eye, the pace he’s set on the sandwich enough to have gotten him through 3/4 ‘s of it by now. He gulps down the bite he’s consuming as he finishes the sentence for the angel.

 

“.. she’s disappeared off the face of the earth?” he inquires, brow raised as he takes another bite. Castiel nods slowly, leaning back in his seat, resigned. “There’s little luck in finding her and if we don’t find her soon, there’s – if I were to put it as honestly as possible – Hell to pay.” Sam slowly lowers the sandwich in his hands, no longer holding the strong appetite he’d had earlier. He casts worried eyes towards the angel – and can’t help the twist in his gut at what he sees.

 

He can clearly see the exhaustion on his features, and the lines on his face are easily accentuated by the tired look in his eyes and frame. He stares quietly at the sandwich in his hands for a minute, swallowing as he allows his mind to drift. _There’s one last resort_ , he thinks. His fingers tighten their hold around the piece of bread in his hands – denting the soft pastry and causing the mixture of PB&J to drip onto the plate beneath.

 

His head raises and his eyes stare resolutely straight ahead as he comes up with their final plan, and their last way of escaping this mess.

 

_The British Men of Letters._

 

* * *

 

 

“So you’re asking for our help?”

 

Mr Ketch raises a brow as he eyes the young Winchester from across the table, intrigued by the sudden request. He never took them as the type to give in so quickly. He hums softly in thought, watching as the man’s – _Sam’s_ , as he’s learned from Mick – furrows in confusion. _You can’t exactly judge a book by its cover. Let alone think something up by himself when he’s facing one of the most reckless hunters known to existence._ Pitiful if you ask him himself.

 

Sam moves to lean across the table, jaw set as he eyes Ketch down. His arms are braced in front of him, cupped together as he pleads. “We don’t have much time. Time’s ticking – and we’re running out of options right now.”

 

Ketch leans back in his seat – cupping his hands between his thighs as he evaluates. He can see the patience in the other man deteriorating and he can’t help the slight pull on his lips when he sees the grimace start to form on Sam’s face. “Please.” Ketch straightens up at that, levelling his gaze with the young man. _He could be of some use._

 

After a short moment of contemplation, Ketch allows himself to give in – no longer able to hold on his own against the full onslaught of puppy eyes against him. ( _When had he grown so soft?_ ) “I’ll offer you a deal,” he says – never letting his gaze wonder despite the strong urge to. _Is the kid using some sort of witchcraft to make him feel this way?_ The young man on the other end of the table nods – despite the swell of the urge to refuse. Ketch eyes him down, before coming to a conclusion on his terms.

 

“You could be of better use with your skillset,” he starts. _And your looks_ , he thinks to himself. He holds back the surprise in his posture at the thoughts. _Damn you, Arthur. You’re not much of a young man anymore. No one could lay eyes on you like that._ He stops his running brain right there before he could delay the other any longer. With a curious flick of a finger at his cup, he finishes –

 

“I could make use of a partner. And you seem like a good option.”


	2. Wallflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam agrees to working with the British Men of Letters, and Ketch is made aware that he has yet to inform the other Winchesters of his willingness to work with the group.
> 
> Shortly after, the British Men of Letters are found to be in a tight spot while on a mission - and Sam finds himself caught in a downward spiral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I was planning to work on a schedule of posting weekly, but I've yet to implement that. I may start from this week onwards. If you're lucky, I may update early or even better - post two chapters in a week. <3
> 
> I worked on the first part of the story before 12x14, so I am pleasantly surprised when I watched what happened. :)  
> If you haven't watched the episode, well.. I suggest you watch it first. So I don't spoil you or anything.  
> But! I had already been spoiled before I watched the episode so read this chapter at your own discretion.
> 
> This is also a new way of writing for me. I've never done this in the previous time I wrote on a fanfiction website. So I suppose you guys are privileged to be the first to see it? HAha :x

“Excuse me?” Sam can’t help the surprise in his voice as he speaks. _Is this guy serious?_

 

Mr Ketch nods from where he sits, his eyes noting down the way the young Winchester shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He watches silently as twenty emotions runs across his features in the time he gives Sam to evaluate his choices. A minute passes. Two. And he knows he should give him more time – but as he’s been told, time’s running short and there’s little time for them to waste sitting around.

 

“If you can’t decide, I will be forced to revoke my offer- “he starts. Immediately, Sam’s head snaps up – rising sharply to his feet with both hands planted on the table. Ketch can see the hesitation in his eyes when he finally speaks.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

* * *

 

The job goes by smoothly, to say the least. Let alone quickly. The British Men of Letters held a large supply of advanced and efficient weapons – full of odd weapons which proved to be more lethal than they deem to be. _Don’t judge a book by its cover_ , they say. Sam had doubts that they were any better than the tools he and Dean has, but Mr Ketch proves him otherwise when he introduces them to him on their first rendezvous – and that seemed to change his opinion like a flip on a switch.

 

Ketch can’t say that he’s surprised, but he can’t say that he expected this either. The cooperation from the younger Winchester, of course. But what he does know is that the man’s hiding something – something he’s hesitant to share. Emboldened, he decides to test the waters. He leans forward in his seat, just enough that what he says next is only between the two of them. Not that it matters - considering neither of them have been in this region of the country before. He doubts anyone they know is here. But still, he wasn’t taking his chances.

 

Sam’s face contorts into one of confusion as he sees Mr Ketch draw near – the man urging him forward with the curl of a finger. He finds himself complying and entering within the other man’s personal zone. Sam wasn’t one to be afraid of taking challenges, especially with a person who’s involved in the corporation he despises. He watches as those cold eyes curl in suspicion, the lips presented before him pressed into a thin line.

 

“Do they know?” the older man asks. Sam barely manages to push down the surprise in his eyes – averting his gaze and resisting the sudden downward pull on his own lips. _Wouldn’t want to get on his bad side._ He thinks. But with the current situation, he doubts his reputation hasn’t already have been tarnished. He pursed his lips before glancing his eyes upwards to where the other man had been waiting patiently, or rather expectantly.

 

“No,” he says simply. His fingers curled into fists on the table – and he moves one to lay over the other in an attempt to calm his nerves. On the other end of the table, Mr Ketch frowns. His eyes squint a way that’s so similar to how Cas does it, which only made the situation all the more uncomfortable.

 

“Not one to play well with others, I see.”

 

Sam exhales heavily, turning away from prying eyes with a roll of his own.

 

* * *

 

The sound of gunshots rings through the building. Screams following close behind. Sam’s head snapped up quickly, alarms ringing loudly in his head despite his best efforts to brush it aside. ‘ _It’s all in control. They’ve got it under control. Snap out of it, Sam-‘_ Before he’s able to finish the thought – the radio clicks alive, a voice coming in beneath the static.

 

_”All troops retreat! We’ve been-“ **static** “ -compromised! I repeat-” **static** “–been compromised! All troops retreat- !”_

Silence.

 

Sam turns on the transmitter into his radio, pressing it close to his mouth. “Mick, you there?” _Click._

 

Nothing.

 

_Click._ “Mick?” he tries again, voice harder this time. _Click_.

 

Still nothing.

 

Anger flares up in Sam like a forest fire – his fingers tingling and his face heating, his breathing picking up rapidly. He grasps the device tight in his hands, throwing it down onto the cement floor with a grunt. _Damn it,_ he thinks. _We’ve lost him. What now?_

 

He can’t help the rise of guilt, and churn of his stomach attempting to force bile up his throat. He pressed the back of his hand against his trembling lips, anxiety crawling deep beneath his skin and _itching_ at him from deep inside. He can’t scratch it – and it makes him even more frustrated. They’ve already lost manpower in the raid with the vamps and though they’ve gotten backup from England during the time they had to recover since then, the force wasn't as strong.

 

In the midst of his dilemma, the radio clicks – drawing him out of his thoughts.

 

_“Sam Winchester.”_

“Ketch,” he breaths.

 

He hears a laugh from the other end, as if he'd hears Sam. Sam can hear the exhaustion in the man’s voice as he continues.

 

_“I managed to make way for Mick to escape. We’ve got troops waiting out front for him so he’ll be safe when makes it. So don’t worry your pretty little head.”_

 

Sam’s eyes flutter as he blinks away the pool of tears in his eyes and the rush of relief over his body.

 

_“But it seems-..”_ Ketch starts coughing on the other end of the line, wheezes barely making their way through. Sam’s brows furrow and he can feel as the relief is once again replaced by worry and suspicion. He finds himself scrambling towards the radio, clicking it on and calling for the older man.

 

“Ketch?” _Click._

 

_“Mr Winchester.”_ The young Winchester tries to refrain himself from thinking too deep into the relief in his voice.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

A pause.

 

_“What’s the difference between a Ketch and a Winchester?”_

Sam sighs. “This isn’t the time to make jokes, Ketch. We’ve got werewolves running amok and-“

 

_“We don’t have nine lives.”_

 

Sam stops, his brain stalling as he tries to work out what he’s saying. “What do you mea-“

 

_“In short, Mr Winchester – I’m not going to make it.”_

 

Sam’s eyes widen, his body tensing and his hands tightening on the radio.

 

_“I let my defences fall and they took advantage of it.”_

 

Sam barely has time to process the information before he finds himself asking the other man where he was.

 

_“I’m sorry, Mr Winchester. But I can’t do that.”_

"Ketch-"

 

_"We'll risk having them get you too. We're low on manpower as is. Better one than two, am I right?"_ Sam doesn't miss the sorrow in his voice.

 

The young Winchester’s lips press firmly before he finds himself yelling into the transmitter. “JUST _TELL_ ME!”

 

_“I'm afraid this is where we say farewell. Goodbye, Mr Winchester.” Click._

"Ketch!"

 

Line's dead.

 

Sam throws the radio against the wall – the loud crack of it against the cement and the thump of it against the concrete not offering any form of relief to him. He crumples to the floor in defeat, arms braced on either side of him as he allows himself to fall deep into the abyss.

 

When Dean finds him, Sam has yet to move. Dean's surprised he's still alive and without a scratch - just blood streaked across his shirt and cheek. _Not his own_ , he could tell. There's more important matters at hand. Dean takes the initiative to show some empathy, and Sam’s thankful for him giving in just this once.

 

Dean carries him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're free to decide whether the title refers to Dean or Ketch. :)


	3. Syzygy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring. All of which have the potential to turn a life around."  
> \- Leo Buscaglia

It’s been weeks since the incident.

 

The fall of a man known as Mr Ketch, that is. _Arthur Ketch_.

 

A man who was known to hold nothing short of terror and despair in the land of monsters in one little finger. He didn’t need any fancy tool to take them down. Just give him the basics – a gun, a blade and his fists and he’d have them on their knees or better yet – dead.

 

Arthur Ketch may be good with his hands, but words and persuasion aren’t exactly his forte. Had the Winchesters not learned how he worked – they would’ve easily fallen to his tactics. They’re easily capable of seeing his intentions, what with the countless years they’ve had trusting the wrong people and putting themselves in danger. The current scenario isn’t any different. It’s risky to associate with someone who’s a part of the organization who’d deployed a _rabid animal_ in place of a _person_ in finding them.

 

_But –_

Sam lowers his eyes, fingers clasped together at the pool of uncertainty in his gut. Something was pulling at him. Churning his insides and clawing at him from the inside. He lifts his eyes to gaze at the form laying on the bed. Tubes connected to various points of his body, an oxygen mask settled over the patient’s features to provide sufficient air to him. From what Sam’s learned – he’d suffered a punctured lung, and a long gash down his back, from between his shoulder blades down to his tail bone.

 

_We won’t know if he’ll ever wake up_ , the doctors had told him. _Even if he does, there’s a risk he’ll never get walk again._ Sam could care less about what happened to the man – but he needed a source to help him with Kelly’s case… _Or at least that’s what he tells himself._ The British Man of Letters is quite probably the most resourceful link the Winchesters have right now. And without Ketch in the game? There’s little to no chance of getting something out of them. He doubts they’re trusting him, just like he doesn’t trust them. It is a two-way road after all.

 

The troops deployed to exterminate the rest of the werewolf pack in the building had stumbled upon a lone survivor. A man dressed in leather – lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood. They’d managed to barely feel for a heartbeat before they called in for the medical team. The man had startled awake when the medical team arrived, hazel eyes blearily blinking as one of the medical personnel shone a flashlight above his eyes. Satisfied with his reaction, the team moved quickly in patching him up before lifting him onto a stretcher. Normally, the man’s eyes would hold little to no emotion - but in the split moment he’d gained his grounds, he’d looked as vulnerable as any other human being. As quickly as he had come, he’s out once more.

 

A hand settles on Sam’s bicep, and the younger Winchester finds himself looking up into green eyes. He’s still not used to the greyish tint of it – different from his brother’s startling forest green. “Mick...”

The man by his side offers him a smile, squeezing his arm lightly.

“Sam. How are you holding up?”

Sam looks at him for a moment longer, before finding himself looking straight at the bed where an unconscious Ketch laid. “I’m fine.”

 

Mick frowns – noticing the odd look in his eyes, but decides to keep silent about it. Instead, he changes the subject. “The den’s cleared. No survivors.” Mick pauses for a moment to let the information sink in. “We’ve got intel that there’s another case in the next town over. Think you could cover that?”

Sam doesn’t give himself time to contemplate, merely nodding his head in compliance. He rises to his feet, the wooden chair beneath him scraping loudly against the ceramic tiles. His expression remains stoic as he brushes past Mick and out the door, never looking back at the sickly white form on the bed.

 

* * *

 

 

“We’ve got a case in the next town over.”

Dean’s head raised from where he’s hunched over in front of his laptop.

“Say what now?”

Sam stares at his brother, lips stretched into a thin line – eyes lowered and brows scrunched together. “There’s news that there’s been several people disappearing there. One thing I’m pretty sure is that we’re hunting a Djinn.”

 

Sam watches as Dean’s features slowly contorts into a frown.

“A Djinn? We haven’t encountered one since…”

“… Jennifer. Right.” Sam nods. He snatches up a seat beside Dean, glancing at his brother quietly for permission to use his computer. With a roll of his eyes, his older brother opened a new tab on his browser and passed said device to Sam. Sam offered a quick thanks before his eyes lingered on the tabs on the window, an easy smile making its way over his face as he spotted “Busty Asian Beauties”.

“Some things just never change, huh, Dean?” he remarks.

 

“Shut up,” Dean groaned, turning his head into the palms of his hands as he whispered a soft “bitch”. Sam glanced affectionately at his brother before turning his eyes back to the laptop. His fingers danced over the keyboard as he pulled up windows and files he’d collected from the case. With a deft turn of his hands, he turns the computer back to his brother. Dean glances curiously up at Sam before lowering his eyes back down to the information laid before him. His eyes narrow as he read the articles carefully.

“Maybe they just packed and left town,” he shrugs casually.

 

“Dean.” Sam says with a sigh, turning the laptop to himself briefly before pushing it back into his brother’s hands. As his brother continued reading – he evaluated further.

“Their belongings are still in their homes – no proof of a scuffle and no belongings are stolen. Last they were seen, they were leaving their houses to head out.”

Dean eyes his brother incredulously, uncertainty in his eyes.

“The final piece to the puzzle.” Sam says, pointing to the lower half of the page.

 

“They explore ruins in their spare time,” Dean finishes.

“Exactly,” Sam concludes with a satisfied smile.

Dean looks at Sam in awe – eyes glinting happily at his little brother.

“Still the smart kid, eh? Some things just never change, huh, Sammy?” Dean offered with a smug smile. Sam merely shoots back a shy grin of his own, gently nudging him.

“Shut up, jerk.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ruins.

 

Sam had predicted wrongly of the Djinn. He’d thought he’d known their patterns but it’d been a while since they’d encountered one, and the one they’re facing was as unpredictable as the first one Dean had been caught in a web with.

So easily did Sam find himself get tangled up in the same strings, struggling and failing miserably to fight away the hand coming close. He eyed it in fear as it drew closer – his mind screaming for his older brother for help. His eyes darted around frantically, before finally landing on the Djinn before him as the hand finally touched his head and he fell into a deep slumber.


End file.
